A Sportsman 373 



Noon came, but no team for us, and we took our 

 dinner at one of the tables, beginning to feel ap- 

 prehensive that we might be left over for the night 

 not a pleasant prospect. Four o'clock came, but no 

 team. It was time for some action and I consulted 

 Tucker. He suggested that we should strike out 

 among the straggling stunted growth of bushes in 

 the neighborhood and camp there, as his car and 

 every accommodation was crowded full. A South- 

 ern Pacific palace sleeping car stood on a siding about 

 a hundred rods beyond the settlement, left by some 

 of the minor officers of the railroad, who had gone 

 off to Silver City for two or three days, and had left 

 strict orders that it should not be occupied during 

 their absence, and no one about had any authority 

 to allow it. I found the telegraph was working 

 direct to San Francisco, and knowing Mr. A. N. 

 Towne, manager of the Southern Pacific, very well, 

 I concluded to try and reach him on the wire and 

 see if I could not get permission to take the car ; con- 

 cluding, if I could not get an answer in season, that 

 we would strike out for the bush at dark, and locating 

 first temporarily would at a later hour move off 

 a mile or more still further away, where we could 

 rest safely until morning. 



As dusk came on we were about ready to move out, 

 when an answer came from Mr. Towne giving us the 

 car. Taking our hand baggage, and with our tele- 

 gram certified to by Tucker, we started off for the 

 car, escorted by a body-guard of about a score of 

 ruffians. We found the car firmly locked, with its 

 curtains closely drawn down, in charge of a colored 

 porter, who paid no attention to our knocks and 



